


Enjolras Corrupted

by EnjolrasAmy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnjolrasAmy/pseuds/EnjolrasAmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble. What if Enjolras could be corrupted, even if only in part?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enjolras Corrupted

_I never meant it to be like this. Even now, years later, I still hear the crying of my friends. I regret it now, but then, when I had all I wanted in front of me, I was lead astray, not even Patria could make me see reason._

 

_Le Dordogne region, France, 1822_

“Marcelin! Marcelin?” called the nurse anxiously, running through the grounds of the manor house where the Enjolras family had lived for generations. Eight year old Marcelin Enjolras was at the bottom of the orchard, a large pile of sticks in front of him with a scrap of red fabric sticking up from the top.

“Boom! Boom!” he cried happily, throwing sticks at the piles of leaves he’d assembled on the other side of the mini barricade. “Another win for the freedom fighters!” he cried, as the last of his sticks scattered the piles of leaves. The nurse came up behind him, and saw the barricade, shaking her head.

“Monsieur Marcelin! I’m ashamed of you! Fighting on the side of the rebels when the King himself is coming to dinner tonight! A revolution would only cause trouble for the good King and people like your parents, people like us! Now come on, up with you. The King is coming for dinner tonight, and you need to look your best.”

“Awww, Nursie... Five more minutes, please?” moaned Enjolras, his lower lip trembling, about to burst into tears. The nurse scowled.

“I’m sorry Monsieur. But you must come and get ready. The Combeferre’s are coming.”

“Luc too?” asked Enjolras, his face lighting up at the possibility of his best friend being with him tonight.

“I think so” smiled the nurse, as she pulled Enjolras up onto his feet and kicked the barricade down, saving the scrap of scarlet fabric for him later. She put a strong arm around his shoulders and escorted him back to the house.

 

Hours later, Enjolras’ parents and Combeferre’s parents were still talking with the King. Enjolras and Luc were bored, wanting to go and play, but they had to stay if the King wanted to see them. Enjolras had had enough, and decided he’d go, leave for good. He outlined his plan to Combeferre, who nodded silently, too upset to try and talk his friend around, and to believe reason. Enjolras pulled the scrap of cloth out of his pocket and handed it to Combeferre, saying

“If anything happens, keep this, remember, and believe our dream yeah?” he asked. Luc nodded. The two boys clasped hands one last time, and Enjolras fled into the night.

 

_Paris, France, 1832, 6_ _th_ _June_

“Enjolras!” called Combeferre from the middle of the barricade, holding his rifle tightly. Enjolras sighed and turned away from Eponine’s body, where he’d been saying a silent prayer for the girl who had done so much for Marius, but he’d returned so little.

“What is it ‘Ferre?” he asked, looking at his old friend with concern, seeing the blood staining his shirt.

“I’m not hurt, this was blood from someone else!” he said in response to Enjolras’ concerned look. “No, I just wanted to show you something,” and, reaching a hand into the pocket of his waistcoat, he pulled out a scrap of scarlet fabric and handed it to Enjolras. “Remember this?” he asked, handing it to Enjolras, who took it without a word. “I never gave up, even though my parents disowned me for helping you then. Look at you, 18, and leading the revolution we talked about and played with.” Enjolras had found his voice at last.

“I don’t believe you kept this, all these years... ‘Ferre... it means so much to me. Listen now, Patria has given me a task; she gave it to me in the form of Eponine Thénardier. I will be back, but I need to go over. Lead this barricade for me, for our dream, our dream of years ago!” Combeferre pushed his glasses back up his nose, and nodded. Enjolras clasped his hand, and Combeferre smoothed Enjolras’ black hair back, before clasping him into a quick hug. Enjolras swallowed and climbed the barricade, ignoring Les Amis’ shouts at him to get down. He slipped and rolled over to the other side of the barricade, the enemy side. A shot rang out as he did, and Les Amis looked at each other, thinking Enjolras had been shot. Combeferre nodded to himself, before summoning Les Amis around him to take command.

 

Enjolras placed the scrap of fabric into his pocket, and stood up slowly, cursing. He had meant to sneak quietly around, but instead he had made the biggest fool he could. In front of him was the entire National Guard, who quickly grabbed him and hit him on the back of the head so he fell unconscious. Minutes later, tied to a post in the General’s tent, he was awoken by a bucket of water being thrown at him. He gasped in shock, and realised that he was a prisoner. He was over the other side, but his orders from Patria had been to sneak over and kill the General to destroy the National Guard, not to get captured.

“Marcelin Enjolras?” came a voice from the outside. “I know him, he was the bastard who corrupted my son and took him away from me!”

“He’s inside, General Combeferre, sir. He pretty much handed himself in!” said another voice, this one young and smooth. Enjolras thought that he could almost be smirking. The tent flap opened, and Gerrard Combeferre marched into the tent and eyed his captive with a cool eye. Enjolras stared back, his brown eyes darker than normal as he saw his father’s friend before him, ready to pass judgement.

“Where did it all go wrong, Marcelin?” he asked quietly. “You had everything... a good family, the ear of the King, a chance to be one of his Generals when your father retired... They blamed your nanny, you know. She is languishing in prison because of you!” Gerrard’s voice became soft and persuasive. “Tell me who is leading the revolution in your absence, and I will let her go. The King would pass judgement on you, but you would be free. Imagine, serving your country on the right side!” Enjolras looked him in the eyes and stayed mute. General Combeferre sighed, and tried again. “Enjolras, I will make the King spare you if you go back over to the barricade, kill your comrades, or give us the means to kill them. I can make you leader of France, just like you wanted. Your family would be freed; the name of Enjolras would be honoured forever!” Enjolras started, it was his deepest dream. By becoming leader of France, he could do what Patria wanted him to do. But was it really his dream without Combeferre, and the rest of Les Amis. However, he ignored the Patria screaming inside him, and found himself saying:

“It’s your son, Luc Combeferre.”

 

Half an hour later, Enjolras found himself bleeding from several small wounds and positioned to climb back up the barricade. He had told them everything about the barricade, and had been assured that he would not be harmed. He glanced at the stars above, just as his friends were singing about their lives, in case they died the next day. He looked at them sadly, knowing that this would be their last communion. He sighed and slept uneasily. Dawn broke, and the battle commenced again. When all hope had faded, Enjolras sprinted back up the barricade as arranged. A sniper shot the barricade under Enjolras’ feet, causing him to fall down into the arms of the General. Luc Combeferre was captured alive, trying to resist. Enjolras acted like a prisoner too, and together they were lead to a courtroom, where Louis Philippe himself sat as judge.

“I don’t want them tried together. Take the black haired one away; I’ll deal with him later.” King Louis commanded. Enjolras was pushed out of the room. That was the last time he saw his best friend alive. That night, General Combeferre visited Enjolras in his cell.

“It’s over” he said simply. “I killed the King, and made it look like my son did it. I then had him shot. Marcelin Enjolras, you are now our leader! My son knew you betrayed them, and died cursing your name.”

“I have this, sir” Enjolras said, handing him the scrap of red cloth he had given to Combeferre when he was 8 years old. General Combeferre looked at it, before throwing it on the fire.

“No more” he said simply.

 

Years later, Enjolras remembered that day. He walked along the banks of the Seine, and looked over into the water. “I’m sorry, Les Amis” he whispered, before pulling the pistol he’d hidden in his pocket out and placing it to his temple. “I tried to do what was best for the Republic, but dying for the cause would have been better. I will rectify that now.” A shot rang out, and Marcelin Enjolras, leader of the French people, was accepted into fate’s arms at last.

 

_I was given a hero’s welcome by Les Amis. They should have hated me for what I did, but they understood. Patria herself was there, smiling at me for doing the right thing at last. Among Les Amis were Cosette and Eponine. Cosette had become my wife by arranged marriage after the barricade, due to Marius dying. She caught an illness a year later during childbirth, and died from the illness. At last, I saw the face I wanted to see. Luc Combeferre gazed at me and then smiled, before running towards me and hugging me for all I was worth. I hugged him back, happy to be with my real family._

_And now we sit and plan for revolutions that will never happen. I look around the room, so like the back room in the cafe, a leader once more, and smile. I did the right thing, and looking at Paris now, I see the place I wanted to see. My friends deaths hurt me, as did my betrayal, but they understand. Man should never be corrupted by power. It can be their undoing, as it was for me._

**Author's Note:**

> OK, I know I said I wanted to do an evil Enjolras being corrupted, but I couldn’t go through with that, as Ramjolras to me will always be an angel. I had to settle on a tale told from heaven, and tried to corrupt Enjolras, but failed! Reviews are appreciated. I know it’s not historically accurate, but... I did my best! Thanks for reading!


End file.
